


Hushed

by I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Background Order 66, Dark, Deathfic, Gen, Graphic Depiction of Smothering, Horror, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 11:09:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13925910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning/pseuds/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning
Summary: Obi-Wan is lying unconscious in the Halls of Healing when Vader marches on the Temple. Vader will take care of this himself.





	Hushed

 

He looked so peaceful, lying there, as the Temple burned around them.

The screams of the dying shattering through the Halls of Healing could not breach the sedative-induced slumber of his injured former master.

So pale. So vulnerable. Vader trailed a bloody finger down the Jedi's pulse-point, thought of how important this man had been to him, less than an hour earlier.

_ People do change,  _ Vader mused.

Somehow, it didn't seem right to kill him with Anakin Skywalker's blade. The crystal already wailed against the cruelties it had been forced to inflict, but Vader doubted it was the sad song that stayed his hand.

He called a pillow to his hand, out from under the head of a dead Jedi, the saber gash across its throat the latest of his conquests.

If you asked him later what species, what age, what gender— none of those questions would he be able to answer.

It simply hadn't mattered.

It had lived, and then it hadn't.

Vader leaned over Obi-Wan, peering at the wounds left over from their final fight with Dooku.

A shame. They appeared to be healing well.

Vader pressed a kiss to the cool forehead, then held the pillow over Obi-Wan's nose and mouth.

For a long moment nothing seemed to happen, and then Obi-Wan twitched.

Vader felt a fresh surge of adrenaline shoot through his veins, and he pushed down harder, murmuring hushing noises as the unconscious body writhed beneath him, the automatic reaction too feeble to make any headway.

“That's it,” Vader purred. “You'll never know.”

It was better this way, for Obi-Wan to die without ever knowing what had been done to his home and his people.

What Anakin had done.

His last memory of Anakin would be of praising him. Honest, humbled words of pride in what Anakin had accomplished and become.

What Anakin had made himself.

Vader let his Force signature gently invade Obi-Wan's hibernated mind, felt Obi-Wan's soul relax against him in trust and peace.

The last twitches stilled, but Vader waited to move until he felt the tap against his heart in the Force and the ripping away of the connection in the back of his mind.

It felt intoxicating, like the peeling away of a bacta patch after a wound had healed over. Hurting a little, perhaps, but signifying it was time to move forward without the hindrances of the past.

Vader lifted the pillow away, considered the discolored lips with a thoughtful gaze.

He trailed his fingers down the still cheek, then pressed a chaste kiss to the lips and walked away.

It was the only rite Obi-Wan Kenobi would receive, his body eventually hauled out by clones and piled with his brothers and sisters on the steps of the Temple where the bodies were burned for all Coruscant to see, his saber a trophy in Vader's new home.

And when Vader thought of him— once every several years—it was with fondness. The man had loved his Padawan, and he had died so sweetly when Vader insisted.

A treasured memory indeed.

 

 


End file.
